On the Rocks
by ArwenSolo
Summary: Leia faces the consequences of a decision, and realises that Han is not all bad after all. COMPLETE


_Abort mission! Repeat, we are aborting mission! Return to base!_

Leia bent over the intercom device, straining to hear the last words of the pilot. All she could hear was the faint sound of static before the intercom fell silent. Her face expressionless, she straightened and turned to Carlist Rieekan who stood at her side. "I'll go down to the docking bay," he told her before she had a chance to speak. She could hear the sympathy in his voice. He was trying to help her avoid see how many pilots had returned alive - how many hadn't. She set her jaw. "No, I'll go myself. You should probably take down a report of the - of the mission, for Mothma."

"Alright, Princess." The general moved away. Leia left the communications room and hurried down the corridor, rubbing her arms. Even with the thick padded snowsuit she wore, the cold still managed to get through somehow. She rubbed harder, as if that would warm the chill settling on her heart. Another failed mission. And it had been her idea. What was she thinking, risking the lives of loyal soldiers in order to achieve something so trivial? It had been an Imperial supply ship, which was stocked full of medical equipment and food rations. Was it even worth it? She pushed open the wide doors of the docking bay entrance and leaned against the wall, waiting.

Before long the whirr and hum of the X-wings became audible as the pilots landed their crafts in the bay. Forty X-wings - and only nine came back. Leia felt sick as she approached the first pilot to emerge, his craft crippled and streaming smoke. "Did any of the armed freighters make it?"

The pilot removed his helmet. "Not one."

She forced herself to nod briskly. "That's all."

Soon stretcher-bearers were bustling back and forth, the blood of injured pilots staining their white sheets. Leia slipped into one of the empty corridors and stood there, staring at the cold floor. Footsteps came nearer and she looked up. groaning silently as the tall figure of Han Solo approached her. Now of all times. "So, Your Highness," he greeted her. "How did the freight mission go?"

At any other time she would have been pleasantly surprised by his apparent lack of mockery. But not this time. "I don't see why you should care, Solo," she snapped, fighting to maintain a steady tone of voice. "Why can't you just mind your own business?" She stormed away, following her own well-worn route towards the rebel observatory. It was the only one on base and rarely visited by either pilots or rebel leaders. Leia stumbled on the rudimentary steps and steadied herself with one hand, breathing hard as screams of dying men made her head pound. Were they those from the present or the past? It didn't matter - they were all her fault.

She reached the observatory and pressed her hands against the frosty glass. The icy winds outside whirled back and forth, their eerie whistling echoing her thoughts. "I'm sorry, Father," she said aloud. "It's hard, but I'm trying. We won't give up, I swear it, I swear.." She crumpled against the glass, sobbing, as memories she had tried to conceal for so long sprung up with new energy. Vader, Tarkin, Alderaan...

A strong hand gripped her shoulder and she began to tremble violently, hardly daring to look around. "Please, leave me alone! Don't touch me, whoever you are!" Then someone puller her back gently and she fell against a warm, strong, living body, and felt arms wrapping around her and holding her close. "It's okay. It's just me, sweetheart." Leia stiffened with sudden indignation as she recognised the voice and tried to pull away, but Han maintained his gentle yet firm hold on her. His embrace was too much and she gave in, clinging to his jacket with aching hands as the tears began to flow forth again. She could not remember the last time someone had held her, told her everything was going to be alright. Han's fingers passed lightly over her hair as he drew a soothing pattern on her forehead. He sat down on the pristine white bench and Leia found herself in his lap, weeping for everything she had lost and everything she feared to lose. The warmth of his chest calmed her and soon she drew back, releasing her hold on his jacket. "Are you going to be alright, Princess?" he asked, rubbing her back with one hand. She settled beside him, unwilling to admit that she was pleasantly surprised by his comfort.

"Of course I am," she answered with a regal sniff.

He eyed her disbelievingly. "Is this about Alderaan?"

"No - well yes, I..." She bit her lip.

"You don't have to talk about it you don't want to," he said instantly.

"No, I have to get it out sometime. It's just that I miss Alderaan, and my father."

She took a deep breath. "I suppose the fact that the freight mission failed just - set it off, I suppose. That was my fault, too."

"You can't blame yourself."

"Yes I can. They are all dead except me - and I watched it happen. I should be dead too."

Han said nothing in reply, and Leia fiddled with the sleeve of her snowsuit. _He knows I'm a coward now. A failure._ "So now you know, Solo," she said resignedly. "I'm just a frightened girl who can't handle anything."

He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "No you're not. Sweetheart, you watched it all happen. You didn't have a hand in it, but feeling guilty is only human."

"It's not human to send loyal men to their deaths." She pulled away in sudden frustration and stood up with her back to him. "I don't even know why I'm bothering to tell you! You don't have any responsibility - you'll just take off whenever it takes your fancy." To her surprise, Leia found that she dreaded the possibility. For all his teasing wit and infuriating remarks, she wanted Han Solo to stay.

"Oh, so I'm just a heartless mercenary, am I?" he demanded with a hint of anger in his voice. "Guess it's true what they say about princesses - can't do anything to please 'em."

"If that's what you..."

"Looks like there's no point in sticking around," he snapped and stood to leave.

"Han...you're not heartless," she admitted, taking a cautious step towards him. "I'm sorry."

"That's a change coming from you." Her first thought was to retaliate with an angry retort, but then she saw the edge of his mouth lift in the beginnings of a smile. "So," he continued in a low voice, "if I'm not heartless, then what am I?"

She found herself looking unafraid into his piercing hazel eyes for the first time. "Well, you're...you're a..."

She felt Han place a lingering kiss on her cheek and averted her gaze, feeling the heat begin to rise in her cheeks. When she dared to look up he was staring at her with what looked like a combination of embarrassment and confusion, as if he didn't quite know why he had done it. He's just trying to comfort me, that's all. She stepped back, unsure of how to react, and in a flash the moment had passed. "I'm sorry," she faltered.

"For what?"

"For wetting your shirt." Leia sniffed and glanced at the wet patch her tears had made on his chest.

Han grinned. "Not a problem. Besides it's been a while since I had a girl crying into my shirt - much less a princess."

She blushed harder and knew he had noticed. _ Of course I'm not the first..._ "Well, goodbye," she said quickly, adjusting her somewhat dishevelled braids. "I have to go now." She walked hurriedly to the door but something stopped her from turning the corner. She looked back at him. "Thankyou, Han."

"Anytime, Your Highnessness." He winked. "Why don't we try that again some time?"

And for the first time that day, Leia smiled genuinely. "Maybe."


End file.
